Goodbye Royal

Saturday was the shittiest day of my life, pun very much intended. That being said, the following blog is a very real, very graphic, and very disgusting account of my last few days.

Friday - Woozy all day. Light headed, nothing serious. I thought it was a catagory 1.5 hangover. Nothing to bitch about. Typical side effects from tequila consumption. Olive Garden dinner. Delicious, but deadly. This would not be the last time I would see that dish of Chicken Alfredo...

Saturday - All hell breaks lose in my gastro-intestinal tract. I literally shit about 25 times that day. Except it was like peeing out my butt. Miserable. Like a gypsy had placed a curse on me. I was powerless, my guts were revolting against me and there was nothing I could do. The climax came when I booted for about three minutes straight. Jet engine style. Chicken Alfredo made a cameo appearance.

Sunday - Day of rest. My guts needed to rebuild. Actually was able to eat food. Needed to regain strength. Crushed the toon Disney channel. Aladdin was the shit. Made plans.

Today - Nearing full strength. Able to make solid shits and fart without crapping my pants (seriously it sucks not being able to fart). I still can't eat food without feeling weird. Fuck that. Tonight is gonna be ill. Winchester meets Manchester with a dash of Auburn. Its going to be like the Flinstones meets the Jetsons (tight movie).

Drunkocity

OKAY, so here it is. No spellm checks, none of that sit. a real blog from the dark dungeins of drunkeness. so here it goees.

My cat is the shit. doesnt matter wht his nam is I calllll him whatever i want. cat, dog, weiner, bro, homie, slice, kimbo slice, whatever. he is the shit. je follows me arounl all day every day. younknow wht ? fuck this ! fuck blog@ its gay@

Rhythm Vampires

Here is a rare first draft of my Christmas list this year. It was promptly rejected by "Santa":

1) Time Machine - Doesn't have to be the Delorian model, but that would be the sweetest.

2) Statometer - How many times have you wanted to know certain things. Like how many times have I farted in my life, how many times I've used the letter F, how many peanuts I've eaten, etc.

3) Clone - two Roys twice the rant!

4) Slave - pretty self explanatory. Did kids get slaves from their plantation owner uncles back in the day?

5) Sex Slave - see #4. This one is just really hot.

6) Magic Lamp - Since I'm not a moron like Aladin, I could really benefit from a magic lamp.

7) True Love - O RLY?

8) An official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle, with a compass in the stock and 'this thing' which tells time - Shot my eye out.

THE INTERNET

The internet spreads some sweet info, but a lot of garbage as well. I will elaborate on a later date. But I found this pic I thought was pretty tight.

Nintendo Wii

Crazy storm today, almost as crazy as the storm thats about to drop in Foxborough *zing*! So now we've gotten a whole big dump of snow, the city is going crazy. Mayor Mumbles' eyes are probably dripping blood after what happened earlier this week. Snow makes things happen. Like Hyde said, it brings peeps together, the social glue of the world, or... were it snows anyway. But it also has a negative side, like crack from the sky. So I'm gonna break down shit right now.

Pros:

- Camaraderie - Like mentioned earlier, snow brings people together. It forces people to interact. There is no where to go, so you kind of have to play board games, and promptly lose Monopoly to me.

- Excuses - Snow is the ultimate excuse for being late... or not going at all period. Seriously, I walk to the train, and then take the train, two things that aren't effected by snow. So realistically I shouldn't be any later then normal. However, I've definitely busted nuts on this excuse several times this year, and in high school.

- Battles - Good snow drives wedges between people. Not evil wedges, but wedges that require bases to be constructed and orbs of ice to be formed. Shit gets crazy. You have to be eternally aware of what's going on. At any time someone could snatch your grill and white wash your dumb ass. Good times.

Cons:

- Idiots - Snow makes people retarded. I realized this after what happened on Monday. How can people forget how snow fucks shit up? We live in New England, snow town USA. Shit happens here. Fucking Nor'Easters are named after this shit. Yet fools forget, and motherfuckers drive like fools.

- Transit - The T. Nuff said.

- Invisible Puddles - Beware. Next to sidewalks these beasts lurk. They look like pavement, but really they're a half frozen ice drink that is... A TRAP! I had to jump over a few earlier this week whilst dodging traffic (good thing I have a high agility score, reflex saves FTW!).

Bassheadz be blasting,
My body be fasting,
I need some food now,
Gotta gets me some chow
.

WARNING

I will be writing a short movie to star Damien Vasquez. It will be very legit. More to come.

CoooooooBRAAAAA!

Alright, so as I mentioned in the previous post I spotted a Baroness clone. I've seen her multiple times since. It's become obvious that either:

A) COBRA has begun to lease out their soldiers to Emerson College. Pretty soon I'll see Destro in the editing labs with his big dumb metal face.

or

B) COBRA is out to get me. Had this been ten years ago, I probably would have loved to have COBRA after me. Finally a time to prove myself to join the JOEs. However, I'm too busy for COBRA these days. Motherfuckers probably just want to use me for some elaborate scheme that won't work anyway.

Either way, I see Baroness clone everyday. Which makes me think about how ludicrous of a character she was to begin with. She was the only female in the COBRA ranks. What the fuck? Way to be equal opportunity there guys. I mean I know your evil terrorists and shit, but fuck, one girl? Damn. She must get plugged a tone. Or... wait! She's a lesbian. She's gotta be. Serpentor would be enough to turn any woman gay, plus Cobra Commander and his annoying ass voice? Imagine that motherfucker during sex (voiced by Chris Latta aka Starscream RIP)? Alright, blogosphere doesn't need to hear about that.


Figure 1.4 - Yeah, it was kind of like that, but less... Asian...

Sweet Bird of Youth

Finals have descended upon my like a plague of locus. Last two years have been typical coast through the tests. This year is more like battle through the projects. Too busy to blog *gasp*! So I'm gonna break you off with a few notes.

-I saw a lady today in a Securitas uniform that looked like Baroness from GI Joe. Seriously. My nerd radar picked her scent up from 3 par secs away.
Figure 1.3 - The loosest slut Cobra has to offer.

- I saw a goddess on the train today. Got me creepin. Burned.

-Hyde had a party last note. Note the fact that I said Hyde and not we, then glance back at the first three things I said.

-I have to poop and write funny things somewhere else for something else. Sorry blogworld.

Yoga Flame

This post is coming to you from 80 Renard in good ol NH. Snows more here then in the city. Also the farmhouse down the street burned down, farmer died, big news around here... seriously.

Anyway, there is a serious amount of negative energy flowing around these days around a certain group of people, women to be more specific, sluts to get to the point. Sluts. Sluts. SLUTS...

Now how does that make you feel? Good? Probably if you're a guy (and my five readers are). Bad if you're a girl. Why do girls hate sluts? Quick example here, I gonna drop some knowledge on this whole slut situation. Sex = good. Right? Chicks must like sex as much as dudes, maybe even more so. So therefore alot of sex = really good! WRONG!

What? If a girl has too much sex, shes ostracized as a slut? Why you ask? Jealousy. Seriously folks, let's get real here. Chicks hate chicks who get stuffed a lot because they are jealous. Just the way broads are. The whole mean girl mentality. The whole if I can get it then no one can type deal.

This makes girls think its bad and cheap to get boned. For guys like me, this is bad. And for sluts that just want to fuck, this is also bad. So all you stuck up hoes, let's just drop the act, and your pants. Because in the end, just like an 80's teen movie, everyone just wants to get laid. So I am putting a ban on labeling fellatious women with negative words such as slut, ho, or chickenhead. Sluts shall be revered for what they truly are, great givers of sex.

On an unrelated note, its my grandmother's (meme cuz she iz teh french) birthday tomorrow. She's gonna be 80. I have to stand in for my dad. Be back in bean in the pm. Slice.

Throwback Post

Here's another throwback from my old journal:

And on the seventh day, god created lunchladies.... well almost. What I am about to tell you is something so secret about catholic religion that not even Mr Tessier knows about it. Here't goes:

It was the final day of creation or whatever and god had just finished adam and eve and was working on his final creation. "My final creation shalt be thine maker of the sandwich and chicken products," God said merrily to himself, for he is a jolly fellow, "this maker shalt hold the most coveted recipes sacred, including the sandwich of the bagel and the puff of potato. And she shalt be of utmost beaer" were crumpled up and on the floor, general unfinished. God either A) lost interest B) determined that he was already in college and didn't need to work hard anymore or C) his internet started working again so he played halo and/or watched copious amounts of porn. Anyway, the plans for "thine sandwich maker" found its way to the mitts of Satan himself, thats right Beelzebub.
Being Satan (you know, red, evil, mustache) Satan decided there was still time to work this "maker" into the likes of mankind. Thusly, Satan scribbled mustaches over all the pretty lady faces, made them fat, stupid, smelly, or worst of all foreign to all nations in the world.
In the last minute of creation Satan released his work into the cafetoriums of schools and prisons nationwide. His work was known as "The Lunchlady Demon Blood Sucker with a Woman Mustache and Gross Facial and Body Features that Would Make any Mere Mortal Puke" or in short "The Lunchlady". All over the world, mauty, kindness, and intellect."
Twenty minutes later, god's blueprints for "thine sandwich makn was plagued with the hideous creatures. Satan was pleased until man realized the secrets of the Lunchlady. Man became aware that the lunchladies held god's sacred knowledge of combining foods and making things edible that shouldn't be. Satan was furious! No where in Hell could he find bagel sandwiches or chicken nuggets with tumors! But ever mortal man had access to such delecasies. God had surely smiled upon man that day.

However, Lunchladies still possessed the traits that Satan had given them. The ugliness, the stupidity, and the stank. Whatev. At least sometimes they screw up teh change and give me a five instead of a quarter. Well this story is over cuz I really have to shit.

Actual Rant

As the title states I planned on writing an actual rant, rather then just humerous musings. However, as I began to ponder I realized I didn't have anything funny to say and what point would ranting about that be? Anyway, the rant was going to be about some article I read on Yahoo News (world's best source for news). It was about how people were calling Jennifer Love Hewitt fat or some shit. I scoped the pics, and to take a word from the Hydian Dictionary, she still looks like a goddess. Even more so with the extra curves, just me I suppose. Here is a follow sample, discuss:

figure 1B - Godess

On another unrelated note, the Christmas Package came today. Tri-yearly on clutch holidays (Halloween, X-Mas, and Easter) my mom will send me a package. Basically whoever has lived with me can attest to the greatness of these packages (Matt mostly). Fuckin shit rocks. She balls out on the dollar store.

Gotta work. Finals are sapping my strength.

AVP-R

I feel like I watch a lot of TV, but I realized today, I watch a lot of TV from behind my laptop, and that I'm really watching my computer a lot. Sometimes there are words on my screen, sometimes videos, sometimes boobies. Hyde took my office, converted it into a room. Still too shaken up about it to go down and scope it out.

Crusader knights? In Jerusalem?

I have a ton of shit I gotta due courtesy of the end of the semester. This includes, but is not limited to: Going home for my Meme's 80th birthday, write out some ideas, grocery shop, do another speech half assedly, find funny picture to salvage this post, and edit a movie film.

I realize that everyday my capacity for doing work shrinks. I have no focus. Why couldn't Jesus have been born sooner, but then I guess I would have to be doing work sooner.


One thing down...

Snow

Every morning when I would wake up at 6.30am for high school I would hope for one(or more), or the following things to happen.

1) It had snowed, thus canceling school. Nothing better then a bonafied snow day. Snow day schedual:

6.30am - awaken, no school, double check the web to see that it was Manchester and not Mansfield. sleep.


11:45 - awaken again. catch end of Price is Right. Scoff at moron's bid. Lucky Charms.

12:14 - give up on day time TV. Watch sports center replay 10 times. Nice dunk by Lebron. Crush Warcraft III.

3:31 - do homework that was due today. Gloat that you 'made the right call' about the storm.

4:00 - give up on homework.

4:01 - sledding. sustain injury. return to crush hot chocolate

6:30 - shovel driveway furiously before Dad returns.

6:32 - Dad returns.

6:45 - finish shoveling driveway.

7:00 - dinner

7:30 - chill

10 - bed

However, snow was only seasonal, thus I could not wish for snow every night.
*forgot this list was originally about something else*

2) The school had burned down. Every morning when I heard sirens outside I would immediately hope that the school was on fire, that no one had been hurt, and I could go back to bed.

3) The was a magic lamp sitting on my bedroom floor. Obvious choice.

4) I had super powers. More obvious choice.

5) That Santa had read his calendar wrong (rare).

Honestly I lost a lot of steam after the whole snow day schedule thing. So I apologize for the burnout.

A Death and the Future

First off, RIP Evel Knievel. The Roy medal of awesomeness will now be renamed The Evel Knievel Medal of Awesomeness.

Read Bill Simons today. He was writing a letter to his past self. Time travels inrtigues me greatly. Every day I wake up hoping that maybe today is the day. Of course the day I'm talking about the day when my future self comes back to tell me important future things (Zombie attacks, communist invasion, asteroid attack?). So today I'm going to use my time machine I call the internet and go back to high school. Here is a tip of the hat to my past blog. Enjoy:

Feb. 6th, 2005

If Lex Luthor can be a super villain, anybody can. He put together a team made out of a clown, an eskimo, a zombie, a monkey, and a chick in cat pajamas. The last time a team like that got put together was when the special olympics put on an updated-for-the-nineties production of the Breakfast Club. Most people wouldn't throw a quarter to a group of freaks like that, but Lex took them up against the Super Friends. He's paved the way for egomaniac high school dropouts with no powers to put on spandex and take over universes. You know, people like Oprah or the Backstreet Boy that shakes his ant farm.

Lex Luthor had cameras everywhere. It didn't matter if Green Lantern was on the toilet or if Superman was 3 galaxies away enjoying a bowl of cereal, Lex Luthor could put it up on the big screen if he wanted. Sometimes, if you were too lucid while you were watching the show, you'd notice, but most times you didn't care that Luthor was watching a tight closeup of a couple Super Friends fixing a satellite. Luthor had to have had the hugest collection of blackmail tapes. His tapes at home are probably labelled "French Ambassador with Transvestite Hooker," "Prime Minister Eating what he Found in his Nose," and "Monkey Fucking Dog." Why did he go through with all the complicated mind control bullshit when he could have quietly extorted money from every country's government without the Super Friends even knowing?

The only thing he Lex got right about being a mad scientist is being short-sightedly ambitious. Scientists are always so excited about making giant monsters and clones, they never seem to think ahead to when they'll go berserk and try to eat them. Lex is the same way. He wanted to control the entire universe. The entire universe. Has he thought about how big a pain in the ass that's going to be? He has enough trouble keeping his friends from trashing the Hall of Doom every time he holds a staff meeting. Every time he calls roll, they destroy so much shit it takes the next week just to rebuild their headquarters.

Start off with a lemonade stand, Luthor. Work your way up to fruit truck, and then maybe open an ice cream shop. You can rule over it however you want, and it will make you a lot more money than getting punched in the face by Superman every weekend.

The best thing about Luthor is his diplomacy. They trashed a lot of furniture, but the fact that he can keep these maniacs from killing each other is probably the most super talent of anyone there. There's not a group therapist in the world that could walk into the Hall of Doom and keep a fight from breaking out. There's no chapter on talking gorillas and eskimos with snowball guns in the psychotherapy handbook. No amount of caring and sharing is going to keep a room full of stupid insane people from freaking out and firing off their weapons. How does Luthor do it? There's nothing to do in the Hall of Doom to keep them busy except a giant TV. Yeah, it's big, but thirteen crazy people and one TV? My sister and I almost lit the house on fire fighting over what to watch, and there were only two of us. Plus, we weren't diagnosed with even half the shit those crazy bastards had wrong with them.

He started letting the other members start coming up with plans, and that turned into a huge mess. A simple plan to rob a bank would turn into building an orbital mind ray to hypnotize world leaders into commanding their troops to find an ancient artifact that can summon a monster, so they can use the monster to spy on the bank and get the combination to the safe so they can get a trained bunny to run in and get the money, as soon as Gorilla Grodd finishes the sleep generator to take care of the guards. Meanwhile, there's two high school dropouts in the bank who figured out how to get the same results as the Legion's plan with a fake machine gun and a couple Halloween masks.

It's a good thing the Legion's plans always failed. Not for our sake; what do we care if some mental patients in stupid costumes rob our banks? Our accounts are federally insured. I'm saying that it's a good thing they failed, because if they were successful, they'd end up tallying their take home pay, and realize they're in the hole 80 million dollars per mission. Extorting money from world nations makes you money, but have you ever looked into the cost of an oribital death ray, or a flying submersible headquarters? Fuck the Super Friends, the Legion of Doom really needs to worry about the collection agencies and repo men.

The Switcheroo

The last 48 hours have been crazy and tragic, much like the movie of the same name (starring Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte). It all started on Thursday night. Pat and I are about to leave KDoonz pad when my coat up and vanishes. Low and behold, there is a cromulant looking coat that is and impostor of my coat. Apparently some fool swiped my coat thinking it was theirs. So my plan was to snipe the impostor coat and hope I'd run in to the swipee later this weekend.

At first it looked liked an upgrade, I felt like a hermit crab moving in on a conch. It was longer, but was laking furry collar and increased warmth. As I continued to wear it, I realized it wasn't an upgrade. I felt like Indiana Jones losing his hat, Mario losing his mustache, or Lincoln losing his beard. That coat and I have been through some battles. Seen some high highs, and some low lows. Been coast to coast, maybe. I also left my chapstick in one of my coat pockets. Definitely a big loss.

So last night, I find my coat, and make the swap with the owner of the coat I was wearing. I left three Saw IV lollipops in the pocket... lame. Overall not really an interesting story, but the Hyde brothers were pressuring me to blog. Probably sneak another post in later today.

First Ever Roy Medal of Awesome.

This first ever, honorary, medal of awesomeness is being given to a man of great character and mind. Ignoring the weight brought on from his job title, this mad scientist is only looking out for the community. Of course I am talking about the one and only, Bill Nye 'The Science Guy'.

Perhaps the smartest man on the face of the earth (it was once stated he knew half of everything). His television program was myth busters before adam savage was dumping in his special effects diapers. Bill Nye was out in the world, repping volcanoes, checkin mad tornadoes, and swimming with dolphins. All of this for the kids. Bill Nye was a master of the speech, and really knew how to drive a point home. The shit he deposited into my prepubescent mind still rings true to this day. I could name the different layers of the earth because of some rap made up by Bill Nye. He wasn't afraid to flex nerd nuts on America. Chicks to this day still hunt his dick.

Bringing me to the question, What is Bill Nye doing these days. My hypothesis is that he is teaching at some assbutt college somewhere. These kids go to class and get their collective brains jizzed on with the creamiest of curriculum. Think about it. Yeah I have biology 101 with... professor Nye? Nye? is that asian? Then the look on their faces when they get to class. Oh fuck BILL Nye! Damn those lucky anal drips....

So here's to a man so soaked in awesomeness if he got pulled over, he'd get a DUA. So I present the first Roy award to the one and only, Bill Nye.

Weekly Power Rankings: Week 1

Since my fantasy team is in dumpsville, I have to focus the stat crunching side of my brain to something else. Thusly, I have decided to write a new weekly article. I present, for the first time, the Bryan Roy Weekly Power Ranking!

10) Writing (I had to write 35 pages of collective screenplays for Wednesday. It was madness. Literally all the humor had been sapped from my body. It was like a comedy hangover. I could only talk in puns, and witty comebacks. A fart would send me over the edge. It was bad, like I was George Castanza or something. I blame writing for that. It falls to the ten hole.)
9) Rock Band (I wanna play the drums so bad. It's scary how I can be motivated to play a fake instrument, but I'm too lazy to learn a real instrument. However its sithly pricetag force blasts me away. 170 for a video game. Lame.)
8) People Losing Gameshows (such an awkward moment for anybody. Watching the contestants try not to swear or cry and the bumbling host trying to act like a middle school counselor and be their best friend. A feel like game show hosts are like Krusty the Klown. Just jerks in real life who would shit on their fans. That's what makes them great.)
7) Movies (Shit's good. I have been on a self induced bad movie stretch and its treating me like heroin. I want it so badly then I take it and end up feeling sick anyway, but then I want more again. I believe its called 'le vicious cycle'? Here are a few of my faves: "Trucks", "Leprechaun 5: Leprechaun in da Hood", Slaughter High, Victory, etc.)
6) Beer (Beer has had to reinvent itself after a long and busy summer in the top slots. Now with winter brews on their way, and the winter break drink fest on the horizon, beer is looking ready for another climb.)
5) Music (My I-pod has come in through with some clutch time. A must have while waiting for the fucking T. I hate seeing 5 govt center and 3 North Station trains come by before a single Lechemere. Weak. But music lets me zone out, and look at people while listening to Dethklok and Catch 22.)
4) Food (Food just came off a stellar Holiday week. And although it tumble a bit post Thanksgiving, the leftovers are still giving it a good boost.)
3) Internet (I can has Internetz?)
2) Chicks (Chicks are not number one? How can this be?! Speaketh he the word of the gay? NAY I say! Unless a chick lets me bang her doggy style in the living room so I can watch Tom Brady, then maybe that would change)
1) Patriots (Tom Brady to Randy Moss! There it is! Its like watching you older cousin punk your entire family at Tecmo Bowl, then proceed to talk about it for the rest of the day, Thanksgiving 1993. Watching the close game with Philly, and them digging in in the fourth, only made me love them more.)

Where We're Going, We Won't Need Roads

The following is an open letter to the scientific community of the world:

Dear Scientists and Scientesses,

Why are you all a bunch of squares? For centuries you've been hiding behind your beakers and graduated cylinders pretending like you are above bigotry. Yet you continuously put down and degrade a sect of your very own. Of course I am talking about those you so thoughtlessly refer to as, 'Mad' Scientists. For years those labeled as mad have suffered from countless setbacks and put downs simply because they choose to dive deeper into the realm of science.

While you, presumably non-mad scientists, receive plenty of government funding to research things such as "Cancer" and "Obesity", Mad Scientists receive no such funding. The main problem with mad science is the overhead. Plutonium, adamantium, star saffires, and most other materials that are necessary for mad science are extremely rare and therefore expensive. This has caused many scientists to turn to crime, or even to hire thugs to steal these materials for them.

Many point fingers at those in the mad science community as diabolical and unstable
, while this is wholly not true. While mad scientists Doctor Doom, The Nutty Professor, and Wayne Szalinski cast a dark shadow on the community, many more work tirelessly to produce items we take for granted. Without mad science the world would not have things such as dildos, the internet, or canned air (seriously, how to the get that shit in there?). This very day, the few mad scientist that still remain are working on life changing invention like the shrink ray, the ultimate nullifier, invisibility lotions for ugly lovers, and the internet 2.

So next time you look down on those in the mad science community, stop and think for a moment. Because in the end, aren't we just a little 'mad'?

-Professor Bryan 'Hacksaw' Roy

Creamed Jeans

Thanks to Pat for this gem. More on this later, but for now I couldn't help but post this pic. Consider this nerd stoked!

Lesbians vs Bryan Roy: Take 1

This will be the first of many entries I write about women who like other women (as more then just friends). Why you ask? Well, like most men out there I am fascinated by a woman who will deny me not because of my hideous looks or lukewarm personality, but because she just plain out doesn't like penis. So this idea I've been kicking around for a while, and I'll admit some times I may sound like a bit of an asshole but a) this is science and b) I am an asshole. So if your offended by me talking about lesbians, then whatever.

So as I sat in class today I was thinking about boobs. Really a nice set of hooters is a good thing to think about, much like a walk-off home run or a real lightsaber (time out, my hands feel dirty, nothing to do with this blog or the internet, they just feel dirty and need to be washed. alright sorry about that OCD interlude). So boobs right? Nice. Well what do lesbians think about boobs? Are they like guys? Do they really like boobs? Or is their love of women strictly... emotional? For some reason I have a hard time seeing a group of lesbians talking about how nice a chick's rack is. I mean, this is something dudes do all the time. In fact, 90% of dude's conversations are based around the mammary gland. Thats true shit, Google that shit. But dudes also like baseball, watching people kick the shit out of each other, and battles. Lesbians... not so much.

In conclusi
on, I have come up with the following equation:
if, Dudes like Boobs
and, Dikes like different things then Dudes
then, Dikes do not like boobs.

I know this goes against everything that porn has taught me, but let's face it, those aren't real lesbians anyway.



figure 1a: A Bull Dike in her natural habitat

Manchester Day 3 &4

Day 3: Drunk

Day 4: Christmas lights

Manchester Day 2: Thanksgiving

I'm a day behind in my day by day blog of home. Whatever, it's the internet I can do what I want.

So Thanksgiving is a great holiday, really spectacular stuff. However, it isn't without its shit stains. SO, I give you the pros and cons of Thanksgiving:

PROS:
-Food: This is something that great increases in value the second you leave for college. No matter what, Thanksgiving will always be a massive bright spot for your taste buds that have been drenched by beer and easy mac for the past few months.

-Football: Football? On a Thursday? Yes please!

-Family: Its good to see some family sometimes. Some of them have some valuable things to say.

CONS:
-Family: But many of them have garbage things to say. I swear some of my relatives say things just to sound really ignorant. Here are a few examples. After I mentioned the writers strike I received the following comments. "They just want a vacation". Of course uncle Einstein, because writers are making so much fucking cash that they can just stop working. "No one really cares about TV anyway, I can always watch reruns.". Thanks aunt. Call me when Gilligan's Island gets old. I went on to explain why the writers were striking. Like usual they just smiled at me with that "Oh, how cute, the youngest in the family has an opinion" look. Fuck. I'm 20 years old dammit, but to them I'm perpetually 12. Then there was some other shit about how global warming is a hoax and how California should be banned from the union for being 'treehuggers'. I bit my tongue knowing that unleashing knowledge on these poor souls could possibly harm them.

-Football: Cowboys? Lions?... weak

-Food: Naw, just kidding. Shit is delicious!

So there you have it. Just one of the many holidays we celebrate over something that didn't happen in the first place (also Christmas, Easter, and Columbus Day).

Manchester: Day 1

Back home in Manchester aka the Queen City (like royal queen not fag queen). I felt a day by day blog on this little break from the bright light of East Cambridge would be appropriate. So, here goes:

Got home. Cats stared at me. Crappy one walked away, cool one chilled. Cool Cat and I made a sandwich. I discovered a note from my mom telling me about soup in the refrigerator. Cool Cat and I had some soup. Found another note from my mom about visiting her and my other high school teachers today at Memorial. Cool Cat and I decided to fall asleep on the couch watching English League Soccer (Liverpool v Fulham) instead.

Woke up and decided to go to Double Midnight. I got into the car started to drive away and discovered two things:
1) The windshield was covered in snow, a substance I had forgotten about.
2) One of the tires sounded flat.
I pulled over next to a new no parking sign in my neighborhood (seriously, a no parking sign, its a fucking neighborhood), and wiped off the snow and checked the tires. All was good.

Picked up some Invincible and Walking Dead. Said hey to the nerds. Went back home to miss the ending of the Soccer match... blast. My mom got home from work around this time. We went to the mall and I got new shoes. The mall really gets my goat sometimes. Some really dumb people there. Then there's the jail bait floozies who strut around, make me feel like Chris Hansen is waiting around the corner ready to pop out with my chatlogs (why don't you have a seat). I see high school kids that I can't recognize and I realize I've been phased out of the ecosphere of Manchester. This kind of makes me happy. Also makes me realize how stupid Manchester looks on the grand scale of things. But that's what I like about this place.

My friends who were 21 went to the bahs tonight. Lame.


Thanksgiving tomorrow. Tasty shit.

A Beaner Wakeup

I woke up three times today.

1) Woke up at 845 for class. Sick. Rain. Wasn't going.
2) Woke up at 1045 for second class. Sick. Rain. I'll pass

So after two epic failures to launch I was sitting pretty cruising on the laze track to Thanksgiving Break. In fact, I guess I'm on break as of right now. w00t. Around 100pm I was awoken by the following.

*knock knock*

...Fuck I hope Matt gets it...

*KNOCK KNOCK*

...seriously Matt... you're room is closer to the door...

*KNOCK KNOCK RASP KNOCK CLANG*

"Ello? Alpha Management?"

...shit... maybe they'll give up....

*jingle, key in door, door opening*

...damn...

*clap clap clap*

"Ello?"

...great a random Mexican is wandering around my place...



So I awoke to find said Mexican man wandering around the basement. Its sweet that random people have keys to our place. Conversation was rough. I was half awake, and he was Spanish. Where was Hyde... After a series of hand gestures and failed conversations, the man started cleaning the rugs! Success! Had I not been such a lazy ass, no one would have been here to initiate said carpet cleaning! Laziness FTW!

The Hangover Scale

As mentioned in an earlier post, I classify hangovers on a scale. This scale is completely scientific and takes into account years of research and thousands of beers. So without further ado, I present to you The Hangover Scale:

Category 1: Pussy shit. I imagine this is the kind of hangover girls get, then complain. To most prolific drinkers, this might not even appear to be a hangover. Possibly a mild headache and dry mouth are possible symptoms. If someone tells you they have a category 1 HO, then they have a vagina, hands down.

Category 2: Not quite baby shit. This is when you wake up and go straight to the shitter to take a massive dump. Solid dump here, nothing messy. After said satisfying beer poop, a headache my linger. After sufficient water and eggs, these symptoms should dissipate. Typical after a solid night of drinking. If anyone complains about having a category 2 HO, then they just have a small dick.

Category 3: Being in the middle of the scale, this is neither excruciating nor an easy ordeal. Headache is borderline severe, and lingers. The solid poops of the cat 2 are gone and are replaced by their ugly half-cousin, the spin art poop. This is the kind of poop that sneaks up on your guts, grabs them, and steers you to the nearest poop receptacle. This is NOT a satisfying event. Once said demon has been expelled, water should be consumed. Slight nausea may also accompany the headache. Cat 3 HOs, are excusable to complain about, but only if you have no external genitalia.

Category 4: This is when shit starts to get real. Nausea, headache, regret. All classic symptoms of a cat 4. This is when your body starts to revolt on you.

Category 5: This is the big one. The mack daddy. Upon waking up you immediatly ponder death. This is when you think you may have done permenant damage to your body. Symptoms include nausea, vomtting, headache, sensitivity to light, noise, and movement. Likely causes are vodka tequila, or Ecuadorian sugar cane rum. Cat 5 makes you swear to never drink again.

Diagnosis Doctor? Looks like a case of the Mondays.....

Our apartment smells. I thought I caught a whiff of something putrid this morning, but after Pat's nose turned up nothing, I figured I was catching some phantom smells. But alas, when I returned from class I was greeted by a wave of stench. Using my keen detective skills I am diagnosing the source of the odor as the basement. Who would of thought that when your toilet overflows, the resulting water will smell? Sucks for us, sucks more for Pat. Focusing first haduken of rage at Alpha Management. If they had fixed our porcelain throne two months ago when we first called, our dwelling wouldn't reek of foot and peepee.

Next haduken of rage is aimed at Emerson College. I wake up a whole five minutes early to register for classes today only to find that the system won't let me. I send a steaming e-mail (like shit steaming not sexy steaming) to the registrar office and peace to class. When I return I have a message saying their bad and that everything should be cool now. Sweet, thanks Emerson. But wait, now one of the classes I wanted was full. Fuck you Emerson. I go to sign up for writing the prime time drama (sweet), and wtf its for writing majors only? Same with writing comedy for tv? and the feature workshop? The hell? I can take basic tv writing and feature writing, but I can't take the next step? So, off goes another steamshot to Emerson courtesy of bryan_roy@emerson.edu. Fuck them...

Haduken the third is targeted at the cold. Not the temperature, the virus. Its shit. Seriously one of the most annoying things on the planet, rivaling the internet not working and the MBTA (an entry for a later date). Also a lesser haduken, possibly a Dragon Punch, towards Pat for bringing said virus into the house.

Alas, every shitty Monday has to be spawned from a Sunday, and today was no exception. Sunday meant a New England sports day, with the Revolution (soccer?) and the Pats both playing some ball. Truely a day for Mr. Kraft. I was too hung-over (class 5 hangover more on this at a later date) to catch the revs game. Whatever, a) its American soccer (see: garbage) and b) they lost. What a bunch of fucking tools. Can't they like channel the winning spirit of New England and just anihilate their opponents? Couldn't Bob Kraft have convinced Tom Brady to play? I mean he's good at everything (football, fucking chicks and not sticking around for the kid and not having said chick mind, cleft chins) he must be good at soccer. Plus, not like the Pats needed a full strength Brady for their game later that night.

Moving on to the Pats game... wow. It was like watching someone play Madden against their girlfriend. Fourth and one... up by 30... I'll go for it, bitch doesn't know what she's doing anyway. I could see the look in the Bills eyes, the same look as someone who is getting plastered in Madden. I swear I saw Losman mouth that using Moss was cheating. Part of me misses watching the Pats come through in the clutch, the larger part of me loves watching the madness of Coach Bill in full effect. Belichick reminds of Dr. Doom these days. Instead of Reed Richards fucking up Doom's experiment and scaring his face, the NFL called Bill a cheater. Now Belichick is unleashing his full force against the Fantastic Four that is the NFL. That switch in Belichick's brain that kept him from doing crazy things snapped off after spygate. Now his rage is running free. All must bow before Doom!

A Book Review

I started reading this Bible book today. It sucked, I couldn't get past the first chapter. Don't read this author's books

"Oh man what a great day, just truckin alon- HOLY SHIT! Look at that! Its a whole god damn grasshopper, just sitting here! Man I gotta tell the boys about this! Man this makes my life worth living. Wait, why the hell does my head hurt so much? Damn what a headache! What the fuck? Shit I think I'm dying... NO! Must... get... back... to.... colony! Fuck my brain!........................"

-The ant from Planet Earth who had a parasite grow out his brain, a true hero.